


Hey

by Estrella3791



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Collection of one shots, Drinking, Erica - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, He shares with her sometimes, I hate Neil, I love Max and Lucas so much, I will tag as I go along, Individually and Together, Lots of both, Lucas's doesn't, Lucas's mother is my favorite person, Max needs so much love, Max's home situation sucks, Mentioned Abuse, She's an angel, erica is amazing, i just want everyone to be happy, my first attempt at doing this, that's why I wrote these
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estrella3791/pseuds/Estrella3791
Summary: A collection of loosely connected one shots depicting the development of Max as a person and Lucas as a person and both of them in a relationship.Originally all of these were posted separately but I decided to stuff them all into one work. They all take place in the same 'universe', if you will. It's kind of a story, kind of not?I just love Lumax so much. I hope you enjoy!





	1. Some Sisterly Advice

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya!  
> I didn't like the way these flowed in a series, so I decided to try them out as a semi-connected story. We'll see how this works.  
> Hopefully you like it!  
> ~Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas can't seem to work up the guts to ask Max out. Erica decides a little encouragement is in order.

“Hey. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out with me. Because you’re really pretty and nice and I, uh…” Lucas frowns at his reflection in the mirror. “Dang, I’m bad at this.”  
“You sure are,” Erica says impassively from the doorway, and Lucas whirls around to glare at his little sister.  
“How many _times _, Erica? STAY OUT OF MY ROOM!” he bellows as he slams the door shut for the umpteenth time.__  
Unlike the previous times, he doesn’t hear angry footsteps storming down the hall. Instead, there’s a soft thud, which after a moment he realizes is Erica sitting down outside his door.  
“She likes you, you know,” she says.  
He freezes in the middle of his room.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but even he can hear the quiver and the insecurity in his voice, and he hates himself for being so vulnerable – especially in the hearing of his little jerk of a sister. (Mouthbreather, El would call her, and Lucas grins, thinking of how hard Dustin is trying to teach her to use curses.)  
Erica snorts derisively.  
“Yeah, right, and I’m part of your little group of nerd friends.”  
“What are you doing?” Lucas snaps. “Go away!”  
“No,” Erica says, unruffled. “Not until you get it through your thick skull that MadMax is madly in love with you.”  
She sounds very proud of her pun, but Lucas doesn’t notice. His stomach is doing that annoying swooping thing that it does every time Max’s name is mentioned.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he protests again, but he’s painfully unconvincing, and he knows Erica knows it.  
“Just stop that,” she advises him. “You’re never going to get her to go out with you if you’re pretending you don’t care.”  
Lucas shakes his head.  
“What do you know? You’ve never had a boyfriend,” he sniffs disdainfully.  
“That really doesn’t matter,” Erica informs him. “I know enough to know that if you don’t ask her soon, Max is going to get fed up and ask you out herself.”  
Lucas stomps over to the door and flings it open.  
“How do you know that?” he demands of his little sister, who is grinning up at him from her seated position on the floor.  
She snorts again.  
“Are you kidding me? She’s not exactly trying to hide it.”  
Lucas’s head is whirling.  
“What are you talking about?”  
Erica stares at him.  
“How are you so stupid?” she wonders. “The girl _kissed _you. Isn’t that obvious enough for you, or do you need a neon sign?”__  
Lucas can’t ignore the swooping his stomach does this time, or the tingle that goes through him when he thinks about Max’s warm lips on his own.  
“It was a dance,” he protests feebly. “She was probably just feeling the music or…. Something.”  
Erica actually bangs her head against the floor.  
“Lucas,” she says, in between whacks, “she – ” whack “- likes – ” whack “- you.” Staring up at him, eyes a little glazed over from the damage she just inflicted on her face, she looks so earnest that Lucas actually believes her.  
“Except…” he starts, but Erica doesn’t let him finish.  
“Good grief, you’re an idiot. Max is in love with you, Lucas. You’re always talking about how Mike looks at El. That’s the way she looks at you.”  
His stomach is swooping like the sea.  
“Really?” he asks, forgetting that he’s supposed to be arguing with her.  
“ _Yes _,” she says.__  
Wow. Lucas feels slightly dizzy at the prospect of Max looking at him in any way that even slightly resembles the lovestruck looks Mike gives El.  
“But…” he begins again, and once again Erica cuts him off.  
“And she’s always touching you. She’ll pat you on the back and elbow you in the ribs and _she holds your hand _.” When Lucas just shrugs, taking all this information in, Erica shakes her head, looking like she’s at the end of her rope. “You know what? I’m going to go,” as she gets up and dusts off her bottom, “because you’re clearly too much of an idiot to believe me, no matter what evidence I give you.” She turns to leave.__  
“But I’m black,” Lucas blurts, and Erica freezes. “I’m black, and her brother doesn’t like that, and who knows if her mom and dad will, and they’ll make her stop talking to me at all, and it’ll make it worse than if I’d ever said anything.”  
Erica turns to stare at him, and for a moment that’s all that happens. They just stare at each other, Lucas slightly out of breath, Erica completely stunned.  
“What,” she says flatly.  
“You heard me,” Lucas mumbles, eyes downcast and heart pounding. The fear that’s been nibbling on the back of his brain is finally out in the open, and he feels stupid and dumb and so terrified that it takes his breath away. He’s only known her for sixth months, but the thought of Max being cut out of his life scares him more than most things in the world. He can’t imagine showing up at school and seeing her walk by without her giving him a careless, “Morning, Stalker.” He doesn’t want to think about not being able to sit with her at lunch.  
He’s been lucky enough to live in a community where racism doesn’t affect him much. None of his friends have ever commented on the differences between their skin tones. (Well, except for that one time when they’d spent all day outside and Mike had complained for an hour about how unfair it was that Lucas hadn’t gotten sunburned. But that didn’t count, because the way Mike had said it made it sound like dark skin was a superpower, and even though Lucas had shrugged it off the words had left a warm glow in his chest.) Sure, he’d seen discrimination and even experienced it a few times, but Hawkins was pretty good for that kind of thing.  
Billy calling him a ‘kind of person’, like being black was a disease or a curse, had sent him reeling, and ever since he’d had the niggling worry that Max felt the same way, that even though she spent time around him it was begrudgingly, because she _had _to.__  
He knows that she doesn’t care, really he does, just sometimes it’s really hard to believe it. And he knows that it’s way, _way _too early, but the thought of marrying her has crossed his mind, and if her dad is anything like her brother that has no chance of happening.__  
Lucas knows that he’s dumb and stupid and it’s too early and there’s a million reasons _not _to feel this way, but the thought of not having Max around for the rest of his life is a horrifying one.  
“Wow,” Erica says, distracting him from his almost panic attack. Her mouth is gaping open, and she looks like she’s had an epiphany. “You love her.”  
“No kidding,” he mutters, trying to wipe away the tear that somehow slipped out of his eye in the most inconspicuous way possible.  
“No,” Erica says, still sounding like she’s seen a ghost. “You _love _her.”  
“I _know _,” Lucas snaps, and he knows that it’s harsh and that he shouldn’t be so hard on her when she was just trying to help, but he’s frustrated and scared and he just wants to be able to hold Max’s hand whenever he feels like it.  
“Lucas,” Erica says, “do you know how rare that is?”  
“What is?” Lucas is emotionally drained, and he just wants to go to the meeting that he’s already late for because he was stupid enough to practice asking Max out.  
“Falling in love, _real _love,” Erica says, and she sounds a little dreamy. Lucas gives her a weird look.________  
“Whatever,” he says, reaching for the camo bandana that he now takes everywhere with him. “Look, I’m already – ”  
“Just ask her out,” Erica says. “You’re going to be miserable otherwise, and she’ll be worse.”  
“Yeah, right,” Lucas scoffs, but Erica shakes her head.  
“I’m serious,” she says, and she’s so sincere that Lucas feels another tear spring out of nowhere, and he wishes more than anything that he weren’t so easily affected. “You guys… you should ask her out. That’s all I’m saying. Just get over yourself and do it. What’s the worst that can happen?” Before Lucas can answer the question, she says, “Have fun at your meeting,” and skips off to pursue her little kid dreams.  
Lucas feels dazed. He wonders when Erica got so observant, and he wonders why he never noticed all the things that Max supposedly does to show that she likes him. He wishes that he’d been braver and just asked Max to go out with him when they were dancing at the Snow Ball.  
He gets on his bike and goes to Mike’s, stomach swooping the whole while. He parks his bike and pushes the door open. He says hello to Mrs. Wheeler and accepts the plate of snacks she gives him to take down to the others, and he descends the basement stairs.  
Everyone says hi, and Max beams at him, and Lucas feels his heart beating fast, and he knows what he’s going to do before he does it.  
He waits until Mike and Dustin and El and Will are deep in a debate about Star Wars (El had become surprisingly obsessed with it, and now when she uses her powers she always mutters about the Force, and Dustin couldn’t be more proud of his protégé) to take Max aside.  
“Can I… uh… talk to you? For a minute?”  
Max raises her eyebrows and shrugs.  
“Sure, I guess.”  
Lucas takes a deep breath, and says, “Hey.”

____________________________Later, when he’s finished kissing her and Dustin is finished mocking him and Will is done making gagging noises, they’re sitting around the table. Mike is starting a new campaign, for old time’s sake, because they haven’t played D &D in forever.  
He finds himself dozing off, and he finds himself okay with it, because Max’s hand is tucked securely in his, and every time he looks at her she turns bright red and smiles like an idiot.  
“Sinclair!” Dustin snaps. “Stop ogling your girlfriend and pay attention to the game!”  
Lucas’s cheeks are just as red as Max’s, but they’re hidden by his dark skin, and he smiles, and he squeezes Max’s hand again, and he smiles. He thinks that he could get used to hearing that.  
Girlfriend.  
Judging by the blindingly bright smile on Max’s face, she feels the same way._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Maxine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max is having a rough day. Mrs. Sinclair makes it better.

“Hey!”  
Max takes a deep breath and wills herself not to cry. She hasn’t shed a tear in front of her stepfather yet, and she has no intention to start now.  
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, little brat!”  
She forces herself to shift her gaze from the floor to Neil’s reddening face without letting any of the terror she’s feeling show through her eyes. She can sense her mother stiffening behind her, but she knows that she’ll get no help from there. Her mother hasn’t once raised her voice to Neil. She’s too scared.  
In Max’s opinion, being scared of him should have been a sign that marrying him was a bad idea, but whatever. She’s never deluded herself into thinking that her mother is particularly bright.  
“I’ve been hearing about some… unsavory company you’ve been keeping.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Max says coolly, because even though she knows exactly what he’s talking about there’s no way she’s ever calling any member of the Party unsavory. (Weird, yes. Unsavory, no.)  
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Neil snaps, and she says nothing, because keeping her head down is the wisest course of action in this situation. “Billy tells me that you’ve been hanging around that n – ”  
“Don’t,” she interrupts, before she even knows she’s going to do it, because keeping quiet is definitely the best idea to avoid his wrath but having her stepfather insult Lucas is worse than getting smacked. “Don’t say it.”  
He steps back and raises his eyebrows.  
“Well. You all for equality now? All about the - ”  
“It just doesn’t matter,” Max says, because it’s true. She’s never understood why the color of someone’s skin made them any different from anyone else. It’s so dumb. They’re just as smart and fun and cool as white people – in fact, in her experience, they’ve been even more so. In California, when her friends would make fun of them, she’d said nothing.  
But that was it. She’d said _nothing _. She always says nothing, when whoever it is giving the insult intimidates her, and it’s so _stupid _. She’s let Billy toss around slurs like confetti, and Neil sneer at people they passed in the supermarket. She’s let them terrorize Lucas, sending him conspicuous glares whenever they crossed paths She’s let it happen, and happen, and happen, and she’s done with that.____  
“He’s never going to amount to anything, you know,” Neil says, dropping into his chair like that’s the end of the conversation. “We’re telling you to stay away for your own good.”  
“SHUT UP!” Max bellows, because that statement lit something inside her, something that’s been flickering for a long time and is finally becoming a blaze. “’My own good?’ As if you actually cared about my own good, you son of a – ”  
“ _Maxine _,” her mother gasps, and Max whirls around to face her.__  
“You’re almost as bad! You let them do whatever they want, say whatever they want, whatever… It’s so dumb, Mom!” She turns back to face Neil, who is staring at her with something akin to astonishment. The expression on his face only fuels the fire. “Yeah, that’s right. I have thoughts of my own. I’m capable of coming up with my own conclusions. And you know what? Lucas _is _my own good.”__  
“Now, Maxine,” Neil begins, apparently trying to be placating, and Max shakes her head.  
“Nope. I’m done with you and your crap. Lucas is the kindest, nicest, best person ever, and he’s funny, and he cares about me, and you’re not keeping – ”  
“Please,” Neil scoffs, “he only cares about one thing.”  
“That’s right,” Max says. “ _Me _. He cares about me more than you and Mom put together.” Her mother gasps like she’s been struck, and Max feels a pang of guilt but pushes on. “You know what? I’m pretty sure he _loves _me, and you know what else? I love him too. And he asked me to be his girlfriend a couple weeks ago, and I said yes, and I’d like to see you do anything about it.”  
Neil stands up, towering above her, shaking with fury, but Max doesn’t care anymore. She’s done cowering from this idiot.  
“I most certainly will do something about it,” Neil growls. “For a start, you can apologize to your mother, and then you can go to your room, where you’ll be spending the next week.”  
“I have a better idea,” Max says. “You can get over yourself and your stupid little prejudices, and I’m going over to Lucas’s.”  
And before she can second-guess herself, before she can actually pay attention to how her knees are trembling and her heart is slamming in her throat and her head is whirling, she turns around and storms out the front door.  
Neil screams for her to come back. She ignores him. Her mother is sobbing and saying her name. She ignores that, too. She picks up her skateboard, which she’d miraculously left outside for once, and leaves. ____

_______________________She cries. The whole way over to Lucas’s, she cries, and she wants to go home – to her _real _home. She wants her dad to ask her what’s wrong, and listen to her while she cries, and tell her that it’s okay. She wants him to look at what life her mom has thrown them both into and be horrified. She wants him to tell her that she’ll never have to worry about it again, that he’ll move them both far away, away from the Hargroves that she wishes with all her heart she’d never met.___  
But then she cries harder, because if she moved far away she wouldn’t be able to hang out with her friends, and she wants them, too. It’s just not _fair _,and the more she thinks about it the more she cries, and she wants to leave but the more she wants to leave the guiltier she feels because she doesn’t want to leave Lucas, or Dustin, or Will, or any of them. And it’s just a complicated mess, and it’s so unfair, and she wants Billy and Neil to leave and never come back, and she can’t go home because Neil will be furious, and by the time she reaches the Sinclair’s she’s in the middle of what is essentially a panic attack.__  
She stops her board and stands, sobbing, in the middle of the sidewalk, because she can’t go and knock on the door, not like this. She’s so weak and pathetic. She disgusts _herself _, crying like some damsel in distress from a really lousy romance novel.__  
She should leave, she knows. She’s sticking out like a sore thumb, the girl with the red hair and the even redder face, and she wants to leave but she _can’t _leave because she can’t breathe and she’s honestly just a waste of space and –__  
“Shh. It’s okay, honey. You’re going to be okay.”  
At first she doesn’t even notice the warm arms pulling her close to a soft chest, maybe because she’s crying too hard, maybe because she’s been imagining someone wrapping her up in their arms since Neil first started yelling. Whatever the reason, she just keeps crying for a minute, until a soothing hand strokes her hair and she realizes with a start that she’s in the warmest embrace she’s ever had.  
She lifts her puffy face, trying to sniffle the snot back into her nose, and looks up to meet the eyes of Lucas’s mother.  
“Hey, darlin’,” Mrs. Sinclair says, smiling at her. “Welcome back.”  
Max feels slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen (crying takes a lot out of you, it turns out, especially if you’re making up for all the other crying you haven’t done over the last little while) and from surprise. This is not how she meant to meet Lucas’s mother.  
She says the first thing that comes to mind.  
“Sorry.”  
Mrs. Sinclair keeps her hands around Max’s waist, and Max almost starts crying all over again, because she feels safer than she’s felt in a really long time, but she manages to regain her control as Mrs. Sinclair asks, voice laced with confusion, “Why?”  
“Because…” Max feels dizzy all over again, and wrenches out of Lucas’s mom’s grip. “Because I’m standing here crying in the middle of your driveway, and I’m a mess, and I’m crying, and I’m really, really sorry. Don’t…” Something Neil said a couple of weeks ago comes back to her, and she feels her eyes welling up with tears again. _Dang it _, she hates being this vulnerable. “Don’t waste your time on me.”__  
Lucas’s mom’s eyes are wide and full of some emotion Max can’t quite place, and she thinks it looks a little like sorrow.  
Seemingly ignoring what Max just said, Mrs. Sinclair reaches down and picks up Max’s skateboard, places a gentle hand on her back, and steers her up the steps, saying, “Come on. I just finished boiling some water, and I’ve got some cookies in the jar. Let’s make a cup of tea, and I can get to know you.”  
Mrs. Sinclair makes her tea, and Max doesn’t say anything, because even though she normally prefers hot chocolate there’s something about the gesture that makes her incapable of saying anything. She wants to drink tea with Lucas’s mom.  
After setting her up with a plate of cookies, her cup of tea, and a glass of milk (“To even things out,” she said with a wink, and Max couldn’t help smiling), Mrs. Sinclair sits down across from her, takes a sip from her own mug, and says, “Why don’t we start from the beginning?”  
“Okay,” Max says, and she can feel herself tensing up. “Which beginning?”  
“Whichever one you want,” Lucas’s mom says. “Why don’t you start by telling me your name?”  
She can do that.  
“I’m Max,” she says, and Mrs. Sinclair’s face lights up.  
“Max?” she says, looking delighted, and Max feels very warm, because no one gets this excited about her except for Lucas. “Max Mayfield?”  
“That’s me,” she says, crunching off a bite of cookie. It’s slightly gooey and very delicious.  
“I’ve heard so much about you!” Mrs. Sinclair says. “Lucas never stops talking about his girlfriend.” Max can feel herself turning bright red.  
“You’re not… um… mad, or anything, are you?”  
“Mad?” Mrs. Sinclair looks bewildered. “Why on earth would I be mad? Lucas has a girlfriend – and a very pretty one, might I add.”  
She winks, and Max turns even brighter red, and wonders what on earth Lucas’s mom sees in her swollen eyes and puffy face and runny nose to make her say that.  
“I don’t know. I just… I’m not exactly every mother’s dream, you know?”  
“Maxine,” Lucas’s mom says seriously, and for almost the first time in her life the sound of her given name doesn’t make Max upset or disgusted or unhappy. The way Lucas’s mom says it is the way she’d always imagined a mother should say her daughter’s name, and she likes it. She thinks that she might use her actual name if more people said it like that. “You are wonderful. You are smart and beautiful, and you make my son unbelievably happy. You know what that means?” Max shrugs and shakes her head. “That means you are _my _dream, and I am very glad that you’re Lucas’s girlfriend. You are wonderful. Did you know that?”  
Max is crying again. It happened somewhere between the two ‘you are wonderful’s, and it doesn’t hurt.  
As the tears run down her face, Max whispers, “Do you mean it?”  
“Yes,” Mrs. Sinclair says. “I mean it.”  
And then Max is really, truly crying, and Lucas’s mom comes around the table and holds her close for the second time today, and Max clings to her because this is what she’s been craving for years, but she never knew it.  
When her tears run out, Max pulls back and wipes her eyes.  
“Sorry,” she sniffles. “I’m not making a super great impression.”  
“Hush,” Mrs. Sinclair says. “You don’t worry about any of that, you hear?”  
“Okay,” Max says, and she almost starts crying again. “Thank you. I’m not… um… I’m not normally like this.”  
“It’s okay,” Lucas’s mom says, and unlike when her own mother says it Max can tell that she means it. “You’re fine.”  
“I’m really not,” Max says, and before she can even think about how strange it is that she’s pouring out her heart to this complete stranger she’s pouring out her feelings, and how she wants her dad and she hates the Hargroves and she can’t help but be mad at her mom for marrying Neil, and how she’s such a horrible person and she knows it but she doesn’t know how to get better, and she’s so scared that she’ll hurt other people the way Billy has hurt her, and how much it hurts.  
By the time she’s done, there are tears in her eyes again. But when she looks up, so does Mrs. Sinclair, and she’s so surprised that she momentarily forgets to be upset.  
“Max,” Lucas’s mom begins.  
“Maxine,” Max blurts, and if the woman sitting across is surprised she’s ten times more so. “I… it’s okay. If you call me Maxine. I… I’d kind of like it.”  
She turns bright red again, and feels like an idiot and wonders if his mom is going to kick her out for being such a weirdo. Before she has enough time to freak out, Mrs. Sinclair smiles.  
“Maxine,” she says. “You are an incredible young lady. You are smart, and funny, and kind.”  
“Well…” Max begins, and Mrs. Sinclair shakes her head.  
“I mean it,” she says. “I’ve only known you for an hour, and I already know that I want to spend a lot more time with you. You’re _special _, and no one who spends time with you will ever be wasting it.”  
Max realizes that she wasn’t actually ignoring when she said not to waste her time.  
She feels more pathetic than she did when she was crying on the driveway, but she can’t help asking, “Really?”  
“Really, really,” Mrs. Sinclair says, and she’s so sincere that Max can’t help but believe her. “I’m glad I met you, Maxine.”  
“Me too,” Max says, and she means it so much that she can’t put it into words. She’s so emotionally exhausted that she doesn’t even try, and Mrs. Sinclair seems to understand, so she smiles at Max and retreats to her side of the table.  
“These are really good cookies,” Max says after a minute.  
“Thank you,” Mrs. Sinclair says, smiling. “If you want, I can teach you to make them sometime.”____

_________________________________________And that is why when Lucas gets home from working on his project at Dustin’s he finds Max in his kitchen, wearing a flowered apron, laughing with his mom as they scooped cookies onto a baking sheet.  
She senses him behind her (she also hears him gaping – he’s a very audible gaper) and turns around.  
“What’s up, Stalker?”  
His mother turns around and smiles at him.  
“Hi, Lucas. How did the project go?”  
“Uh… good,” Lucas says, sounding stunned, not that Max can blame him.  
“Maxine and I have had a great afternoon,” Mrs. Sinclair continues, “but I’m sure I’ve tired her out. Why don’t you two go up to your room until dinner?”  
Lucas’s eyebrows raise so high that Max is surprised they don’t stick to his hairline when his mother calls her Maxine, but he doesn’t comment.  
“Okay,” he says. Max unties the apron and hangs it up on its hook in the cupboard, following him out of the kitchen. She pauses in the doorway, and he looks at her quizzically.  
“I’ll be right there, okay?”  
He shrugs, clearly deciding that the minds of women are beyond him.  
“Okay,” he says, continuing up the stairs.  
Max reenters the kitchen.  
“I…”she starts, and then stops. There’s no way to say how thankful she is for this afternoon, for Mrs. Sinclair’s kindness, for how even though she’d only been a random girl sobbing in the driveway she’d still been taken in for tea and cookies. So she just says, “Thank… thank you.”  
Mrs. Sinclair smiles broadly.  
“Anytime, sweetheart.”  
Max smiles back, though it’s a little shaky because of how strong her emotions are, and she leaves the kitchen and climbs the stairs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________Later that evening, as she’s laughing at some story Erica just told about Lucas and Lucas is glaring at Erica and Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair are chuckling softly, she is happy. She feels safe.  
She _belongs _.  
It is wonderful.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	3. Shut Up and Hug Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas will stop at nothing to figure out what's bothering Max.

“Hey,” Lucas greets Max, falling into step beside her. “What’s up?”  
She shrugs.  
“Not much. Why do you ask?”  
Lucas feels himself frowning involuntarily. It’s not like her to be so abrupt. Sure, she’s not usually _super _chatty, but there’s something in her tone that makes him uneasy. It’s not like she’s bouncy or super full of excitement or anything, but she _is _always pleased to see him, no matter what – not to mention her constant supply of sarcasm and wisecracks.____  
None of which were in her words today.  
And maybe he’s a clingy boyfriend, maybe he’s too concerned, but it doesn’t seem right.  
“Are you okay?” he asks, trying to meet her eyes.  
She gives him a strange look.  
“I’m fine. Are _you _? You’re acting weird.”__  
“ _I’m _acting weird?” he repeats, completely befuddled. “You’re the one that was snappy when all I did was say hi.”_  
“Snappy?” she echoes, sounding offended, and Lucas curses silently for his apparent inability to be a good boyfriend.  
“I’m just saying that you don’t _seem _fine,” he says soothingly.  
“Maybe I would be if you’d just give me some breathing space,” she snaps.  
Lucas actually stops in the middle of the hallway, stunned. Max is always mouthy, but she’s never implied that she resents his company.  
“Oh,” he says, aware that it sounds lamer than lame and also completely unable to come up with anything else. “Okay.”  
She’ll stop, right? She’ll stop and apologize, tell him that she’s just feeling lousy or she’s had a bad day or something, and he’ll tell her that it’s fine, and they’ll make plans to watch _Ghostbusters _after school to cheer her up, because she secretly loves it.  
Max keeps walking.  
Lucas feels like he’s been kicked in the gut. _____

_______________________The rest of the day is kind of blurry. He can’t focus on anything, and Dustin has to kick him under his desk for him to realize that Ms. Vernon called his name. He all but suffers through Biology, his favorite class of the day, and when the bell _finally _rings he bolts to Max’s locker.___  
She’s not there, which is fine. He can wait, and he does. He waits for two minutes, which turn into five, which turn into ten, and she doesn’t come. He panics.  
What did he do to make her so mad? He racks his mind for any transgressions he may have made, but he can’t think of a single one, which worries him greatly. If he’s messed up badly enough to make her this upset, clearly that’s a big deal, and the fact that he hasn’t got the first clue as to what he’s done is genuinely terrifying.  
He can’t stand having her mad at him. He hasn’t been able to since he met her. Irritated, sure. Exasperated, fine. Upset? That’s a big, big no.  
So he sits at her locker and panics and tries to think of something, anything, that he can do to make her not mad at him. He comes up with a thousand and one ideas, none of which are practical.  
“What are you doing?”  
Lucas jumps at Dustin’s voice. Maybe he shouldn’t get so absorbed in his thoughts.  
“Uh, nothing.”  
Dustin is less than convinced.  
“Right. You’re sitting next to Max’s locker and muttering to yourself like a psychopath because there’s nothing going on.”  
Lucas shrugs sheepishly, suddenly becoming aware of all the odd looks being sent his way.  
“Come on,” Dustin says, offering a hand. “It’s my job to make sure you don’t look like even more of a nerd than you do already.”  
Lucas scoffs as he accepts the help up.  
“Because you know _so _much about not looking like a nerd.”  
“Excuse me?” Dustin says, affronted. “I’ve been spending time with the one and only Steve Harrington. I know a lot more about not looking like a nerd than the rest of you losers do.”  
“Whatever you say,” Lucas says magnanimously. __

_______________________________Dustin offers to listen to whatever’s bothering him, but Lucas tells him that it’s probably best if he just deals with it on his own – which is true, because even though Dustin is over Max it’s still a slightly sore topic, and Lucas doesn’t want to rub his face in it. So they part ways at Dustin’s mailbox, and Lucas keeps pedaling towards Max’s house._  
Sure, her family doesn’t like him, but she doesn’t like him much right now, either, so it doesn’t really matter.  
He parks his bike by the curb, straightens his jacket, sets his backpack by his bike, and marches up the sidewalk. He has a moment of terrified paralyzation, and then he rings the bell.  
The Michael Jackson song that was blaring abruptly cuts off, and heavy footsteps stomp over to the door. Lucas feels his heart hammering in his throat; he knows whose those footsteps are.  
The door jerks open, and Lucas jumps.  
“What’dya want?” Billy glares at him suspiciously.  
“I… um…”  
For some reason, after being slammed into a cabinet Lucas is slightly nervous around Max’s stepbrother.  
“Hurry up, moron,” Billy snarls. “I don’t have all day.”  
“Uh, Max,” Lucas says. “Do you know where she is?”  
Billy scoffs.  
“No, and if I did, it’s none of your business. She can do whatever she wants without being chased by some creepy little – ”  
“Bye,” Lucas says, because he doesn’t feel like being put down when he’s so worried about Max.  
Billyt threatens to kill him, threatens lots of different things, but he ignores them, because now he’s even more worried about his girlfriend.  
He wonders if she’s even that anymore, and he feels a stinging behind his eyes and he hates himself for being so pathetic but it’s beyond his control. He’s worried and panicked and doesn’t know what to do and he just wants to hold Max’s hand, to tell her that it’s all going to be okay, to apologize for whatever it is he did to make her so upset.  
But he doesn’t know where she is, and for all he knows she could have been kidnapped or mugged or any number of unsavory things, and he stops his bike and sits down on the curb and thinks as hard as he can about where Max could be.  
She didn’t come to her locker. He didn’t see her leave the school. Did she…?  
It’s worth a try. 

_______________________________There are only a few vehicles left in the school parking lot when Lucas bikes in. He’s assuming they’re all teachers doing overtime._  
Thankfully, the doors are still unlocked, and he dashes through them with his heart in his throat. He has a feeling.  
He walks past her locker, past the classrooms, to the girl’s washroom.  
Once he’s outside of them, he takes a deep breath and steels himself for what he’s about to do. He’s never, in all his fourteen years, gone inside a girl’s bathroom, not even by accident. He has a brief internal struggle about what this will do to his masculinity, but it doesn’t last long, because Max is more than worth any sacrifice he could possibly make.  
So he closes his eyes and tells himself it’s for her and enters the room.  
It’s much the same as the guys’ – graffiti on the stalls, a faulty faucet dripping steadily into one of the sinks – except for the sobbing echoing off of the white tiled walls.  
He recognizes the voice instantly, and his heart drops into his shoes.  
“Max?” he says softly. The crying immediately stops.  
“Lucas?” she asks uncertainly. “What are you doing here?”  
The tears that lace her words are like an arrow through his chest, worse even than that time he got shot in D &D.  
“What’s wrong?” he asks her.  
“I’m fine,” she says, sniffling.  
Lucas shakes his head.  
“Maybe so, but you’re not okay,” he says. “I really want to help.”  
“It’s nothing,” Max insists, but he can hear that she’s weakening and he presses his advantage.  
“Please talk to me. _Please. _I’m your…” Even after a month, he loves using the word. “Boyfriend. I’m your boyfriend, Max, and it’s my job to make you feel better. Please tell me what’s wrong.”__  
A pause, and then she starts sobbing even harder than before. Lucas is horrified.  
“I’m sorry!” he blurts. “I’m so sorry, I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t know what I did wrong, please tell me so I can fix it.”  
The only response to his run-on sentence is even harsher crying. Brefore he even knows what he’s doing, Lucas is down on the floor and slithering under the door of the stall in which he can see her dusty white sneakers.  
The arrow in his heart gets shoved in a little further when he sees her. She’s clearly been crying for a while – her face is red and her eyes are swollen and when she speaks her voice is scratchy.  
“I look horrible, I know.”  
“Max,” he says, but she keeps talking.  
“I don’t… sorry. I’m pathetic. I never used to cry this much. It’s all your fault.”  
“I’m sorry!” he says, and he means it with all his heart. “I swear, Max, I never meant to make you cry. I don’t know what I did, but I’m really sorry. Please don’t cry because of me.”  
She stares at him.  
“You’re an idiot, Stalker,” she says after a minute, and it’s only then that he realizes she called him Lucas earlier. For some reason, the fact that she used his given name when she was most upset sends some warm thrill shooting through him, but he feels guilty about feeling that way when she’s clearly not okay.  
“Sorry,” he says again, and she rolls her eyes.  
“You don’t need to be sorry,” she says. “It’s not really your fault. It’s just… I had a meltdown a couple weeks ago, and I had one today, and it’s _so _not like me.” She shrugs. “Sorry.”__  
“You don’t need to be sorry either!” he says hastily. “You haven’t done anything wrong!”  
“Thanks,” Max says half-heartedly, keeping her eyes fixed on a spot over his left shoulder.  
“Anytime,” Lucas says sincerely, and then there’s a minute where neither of them say anything and both of them feel like idiots. “So,” he ventures, when she’s stopped hiccupping every few seconds and he’s had ample time to reflect on how crowded a handicapped stall can feel when there are two people in it, “are you going to tell me what’s up?”  
“Life,” Max shrugs.  
“Home?” Lucas guesses, and Max shakes her head.  
“No,” she says. Lucas is bewildered.  
“Then what?”  
If he didn’t do something, did Dustin? Did Mike? He can’t see Will being offensive. Was El a little snippy?  
She stares at her hands, which she’s twisting in her lap as she chews on her lip.  
“It’s dumb,” she says.  
“Tell me,” he all but begs. “ _Please _.”__  
“Yeesh,” she huffs a chuckle, “Don’t get your undies in a twist.”  
“I’m just worried,” he tells her. “I just want to know what’s wrong so I can fix it. I hate seeing you unhappy.”  
She looks touched by this, more touched by this than she usually is, and Lucas prides himself on finally saying something right today.  
“You’re sweet, Stalker,” she says, “but you can’t fix this.”  
“What’s _wrong _?”he asks, tired of the back and forth.__  
She seems to pick up on this, because she buries her face in her hands and mumbles, “I’m just a really lame person.”  
He stares at her, bewildered.  
“A really lame person?” he repeats, totally confused. “What the heck are you talking about?”  
“Come on,” Max says, “don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”  
“I haven’t,” Lucas says truthfully. He was too busy thinking about how pretty she was and how fun she was to be around and how much he loved her… hair. Loved her hair.  
“I just…” she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I guess… Stacey and the others were talking during gym, and it kind of threw me a bit.”  
“What did they say?” Lucas asks, relieved that they’re finally getting somewhere. Max’s face darkens, and he suddenly wishes that he hadn’t asked. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to,” he adds.  
“Just… stuff,” she says vaguely. “Like… how I’m messed up, because the only person that’ll date me is a… you know. And, I don’t know… how I _might _be pretty if I were to try makeup and clothes that fit and, you know, stuff. I don’t know. It’s dumb.”__  
Lucas’s brain temporarily stops working. What were they even _thinking _? His blood starts boiling. He’s never heard anything more – what were they – he can’t think straight, he’s so upset.__  
Max takes his silence for agreement and stands up from where she’s been sitting on the toilet seat.  
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I didn’t realize that kind of stuff meant anything to you.”  
“What are you talking about?” he asks. “It doesn’t!”  
“What?”  
“What?”  
They look at each other, both confused and both upset, until Lucas decides to take matters into his own hands.  
“Max,” he says, looking her in the eyes and reflecting that his favorite color wasn’t blue until he met her, “those girls are imbeciles.” She huffs a laugh, and he shakes his head. “I mean it!” he insists. “Nothing they said was true.”  
“Okay,” she says, but he can tell she’s not convinced so he shakes his head.  
“No, it’s not okay,” he informs her. “You need to know that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”  
“Whatever,” she says, and he shakes his head again, more violently this time.  
“You don’t get it, do you?”  
“Oh, boy,” she says. “I know where this is going. I don’t need a sickeningly sweet speech, Stalker. I’m good.”  
“But I need you to know,” he says, “that you’re, like, the most awesome person ever.”  
“Sure,” she says.  
He feels himself getting annoyed by her constant disbelief, so he decides the best course of action is to talk so quickly that she doesn’t have an opportunity to get a word in edgewise.  
“Look,” he says. “You’re not ‘messed up.’ They were talking about _me _. The only problem with you is that you’re dumb enough to date me.”  
“That’s not – ”  
He doesn’t let her finish.  
“And no, you’re not pretty – you’re _gorgeous _. Your hair, and your eyes… You don’t even know, Max. They’re just jealous that you look better right after you roll out of bed than they do after half an hour of plastering makeup on their faces.”  
Her eyes shimmer with tears, and he worries that he’s overstepped something until she lets out a breathless laugh as she wipes her eyes.  
“Darn it, Lucas. This is exactly why I didn’t want you to give me a speech.”  
“Sorry,” he starts. She doesn’t let him finish.  
“Shut up and hug me.”  
He feels a rush of relief and happiness and something that he’s not ready to recognize but which he’s fully aware is love, and he finally puts his arms around her and holds her as tightly as he can.  
She gives a happy little hum and nestles into his chest. She’s warm and solid and he’s been wanting to hug her all day and he rests his cheek against the top of her head and thinks that life couldn’t really get any better, and then it does.  
“Thanks,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”  
His heart swoops and he unconsciously hugs her even tighter.  
“Well, you’re the – ”  
“If you say best girlfriend ever,” she interrupts him, “I’ll throw up.”  
“Fine, then,” he huffs. “You’re the best skateboarder ever. Happy?”  
“Yes,” she says, and he can hear that she means it, and that makes him happy, too.  
They stand there, holding onto each other, for another few minutes, and then she pulls away, wiping her eyes and betting him that she can get to his house faster than he can. (Winner gets to pick the movie.)  
He lets her win, and she knows it.  
Neither of them care.____


	4. Her Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas is crying. Max is going to fix it.

“Hey, Maxine!”   
Max feels herself grinning and slaps the palm Mr. Sinclair offers.  
“Hello, sir!”   
He gives her a playful glare.  
“How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t call me sir!”  
“Sorry, sir,” she says flippantly, “I must have forgot.”   
Lucas’s dad just chuckles and shakes his head.  
“You’re hopeless, girl,” he says resignedly. “Just get yourself upstairs and get my son ready for that English test on Wednesday.”   
“Yes, sir,” she says, giving him her best salute.  
He gives her a light slap with his rolled-up newspaper as she flees up the stairs.  
She shouldn’t needle him so much, but it’s hard to resist, especially when she knows that he secretly enjoys it as much as she does. The thought crosses her mind that if it were Neil she was blatantly disrespecting, he’d be hitting her much harder with something that would hurt a lot more than a newspaper, but she shoves it away and focuses on getting up the stairs without tripping. When she laughs too hard she gets dizzy.  
She loves Lucas’s family. They’ve taken her in as one of their own. Mrs. Sinclair has made it very clear that she’s always more than welcome to come over at any time, and Max has learned that she means it. The invitation means more to Max than she’ll ever be able to put into words. The fact that she has a safe place to come to is a relief that she honestly thought she’d never have in Hawkins.  
Not to mention the fact that his family is fan-freaking-tastic.   
Long story short, she tends to spend more time at his house than she does at her own, and she’s really okay with that, especially since all the Sinclairs are.  
She wonders vaguely, as she all but skips down the hall to Lucas’s room, why he didn’t come down to meet her at the door like he normally does, but it’s not like it really bothers her, and she’s sure he’s got a good reason.   
“Knock, knock,” she grins, tapping on the door as she pushes it open.  
Lucas looks up from his novel with a smile.   
“You sound like you’re in a good mood today.”   
She feels her grin widening as she drops her bag on the carpet and plops down onto the bed beside him on the bed.   
“I am, actually. Thank you for noticing.”  
“Anytime,” he says, mirroring her grin. “What’s got you feeling so great today, m’lady?”  
“Oh,” she shrugs, not even trying to look nonchalant when she feels so gloriously free, “only the fact that it’s Saturday, we don’t have school, and I get to spend the whole day with you.”   
“So me,” he deadpans. “You’re in such a good mood because you get to hang out with me.”   
Normally, Max would contradict him, but you know what? It’s been a good week. Neil has been surprisingly docile, Billy hasn’t spoken to her once, and her mother actually took her out for dinner last night.   
So instead of flipping out and informing him that she only hangs out with him because she has to (which is, by the way, a lie – though she’s definitely not ready to even think about it, let alone admit it, she genuinely loves Lucas, in multiple ways, and spending time with him makes her feel very, very happy), she just hums noncommittally and flops onto her back.  
She’s so busy being happy that for a minute she doesn’t notice that he hasn’t responded to her until she hears a sniffle.   
She flies into a sitting position and tries to be inconspicuous about looking at Lucas.  
Sure enough, there are tears in his eyes.   
Her good mood evaporates immediately. Lucas _never _cries, ever, especially not around her. It crosses her mind that maybe she should address this, because even though she puts up a tough and abrasive façade, she genuinely wants him to feel safe with her. But that’s not really important at the moment.  
“Are you… are you okay?” she asks, wincing inwardly at how horribly bad she is at this.   
He sniffs again, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and then looking up to meet her gaze.   
“I’m fine,” he says.  
Her heart sinks, because he’s _not _fine. His eyes are red, and she berates herself for not noticing before. He looks tired, and he clearly didn’t sleep well last night.  
Something is obviously wrong. She just doesn’t know how to address it.   
“Can I, uh… can you tell me what’s going on?”  
She cringes at how much like her teachers she sounds, but she doesn’t know how to deal with this. She’s never had to emotionally support someone. When someone cries, she usually makes a joke or something, tries to play it off and hide how much tears on someone’s face upset her. But this is _Lucas _, and he is her _boyfriend _, and there’s no way she’s going to just crack a joke.  
She knows that’d bother him more he’d ever let on. He’s a sensitive soul, Lucas, even though he tries to hide it under witty replies and rolled eyes.   
He can’t hide it from her.  
“I… it’s just…” Lucas starts, and then stops. She doesn’t press him. She’s been the one trying to string together a serviceable sentence, and she knows how difficult it is when your brains feel like they’ve been scrambled.   
He’s sat and listened to her more times than she can count. This time, it’s her turn.   
“I don’t know,” Lucas says, and she focuses even more intently on him. She doesn’t want to miss anything he says. “It’s dumb.”   
“No, it’s not,” she says quickly, before she even knows what she’s saying and with more passion than she says a lot of things. Lucas looks just as surprised as she is at her outburst, and she hastily continues, “It’s not dumb.”   
“I don’t know,” he says, and she can hear the doubt in his voice, “I’m pretty sure it’s dumb. Stupid. Ridiculous…”  
She’s sure he’d have kept going with his list of negative words, but she doesn’t let him.  
“No,” she says. “No, no.” He raises an eyebrow at her vehemence, and she feels herself blushing. Darn it, she’s bad at this. She’s almost tempted to just shrug it off and let him insist that he’s fine, because this is _hard _.  
But she won’t, and she knows that she won’t, because she knows what it’s like to simultaneously want to be left alone and listened to. She knows what it’s like to want to scream at the person you’re talking to and also wish that they’d just wrap you up in their arms.   
She knows that the latter options are always better, and Lucas deserves the _best _, and she’s going to do everything she can to make sure he gets all that she can give him.  
“Nothing… nothing that…” She pauses, thinking of a way to say this without sounding like a shrink and then deciding that there really is no such thing. “Nothing that bothers you is stupid, Stalker.”   
That gives him pause, and she feels kind of guilty at how taken aback he looks.  
Is she really that mean? Does he really think that she doesn’t care about him? The thought gives her a weird ache in her chest, and she makes a mental note to be as nice to Lucas as she possibly can in the future.   
“Really?” he asks, sounding so uncertain that it breaks her heart.   
“Yes,” she says firmly. “I’m your girlfriend, Lucas. Remember? I care about you. I want… I want to help.”  
His eyes go soft for a minute, like they always do when she calls herself his girlfriend, but then the pain that was in them before shoves the softness aside.   
She’s almost gagging at how cheesy she’s being, but she means every word.   
“Thanks, MadMax,” he says, forcing a smile. (He doesn’t think she can tell that he’s forcing it, but she can.) “That means a lot.”   
“Of course,” she says firmly, “that’s what I’m here for.”   
And, wouldn’t you know, that’s the feather that breaks the camel’s back.  
In other words, Lucas takes a minute to process her words, sets his book down, and bursts into tears.  
For a minute, she feels frozen, because she’s never done this. She’s never watched Lucas’s face crumple or his body shake with sobs, and it honestly terrifies her more than she’d care to admit.   
She’s tempted to flee, to tell his mom what’s going on, but she knows that she can’t. He’s been there for her, time and time again, and no amount of ugly crying ever scared him off. She’s not going to leave just because it’s her turn to comfort him. She may be a brat, but she’s a loyal one.   
So she tentatively shifts forward and reaches out her arms. Lucas all but falls into her, and she has to chew on the inside of her cheek to keep from blurting some totally unhelpful rambling.   
He’s still wracked with sobs, so she awkwardly wraps one arm around his back and raises the other to stroke his hair.   
She feels dumb. This is stupid. She feels like an idiot.  
And then Lucas burrows into her stomach and slips his arms around her waist, clinging for all he’s worth, and something sweet and warm wells up in her. She’ll later identify it as a mixture of affection and protectiveness, but at the moment she just hugs Lucas a little tighter.  
He cries for a while, and Max lets him, because she knows just how liberating it is to cry out all your feelings with someone who cares about you holding onto you. When he’s done, he sits up, sniffling and clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes. She waits until he’s calmed down to the occasional hiccup, and then she shifts her weight around clumsily.  
“So,” she says, and her voice sounds strange even to her own ears, “what’s going on?”  
He shakes his head, eyes fixed on the bedspread.   
“I don’t know, Max, it’s not like it’s…”  
“It _is _,” she says, and she can hear the pleading in her voice and she doesn’t care. “I don’t even know what you were going to say, but please tell me what’s wrong. This is really… I don’t…”  
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to – ”  
“ _No _,” she snaps. He jumps and she feels guilty. “I don’t want you to be sorry. What I want -what I _need _-is for you to tell me what’s going on.”  
“It’s nightmares,” he blurts, and she blinks. She’s startled for multiple reasons. For one thing, wheedling that out of him was much easier than she expected. For another, he’s been having nightmares?  
“Nightmares?” she asks, and her voice is much softer than it normally is but she doesn’t notice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
She whines nonstop about her nightmares to him. Why would he feel like he couldn’t tell her?  
“I just…” he begins, and then pauses. She waits, because she knows more is coming. “I didn’t want to bother you, I guess.”  
“ _Bother _me?” she asks incredulously. “Why would you… Do you really…” Her voice cracks, and she swallows. He thinks that sharing his issues would be bothering her? “Do you really think that would bother me?”  
He meets her eyes and then looks away.  
“I just… it’s not like I deserve to have them.”   
That renders her speechless for a minute.   
“What?” she whispers eventually, and her heart has been cracked lots of times but this somehow seems like it hurts more than all the rest.   
He shifts uncomfortably.  
“You know.”  
“No, I actually don’t,” Max says.  
“It’s not like anything actually happened to me!” Lucas all but shouts. “Dustin and Steve were almost eaten by demodogs. Mike… he lost Eleven. Eleven – she’s suffered the most out of all of us. Will lived a _week _in a monster dimension. They’ve lived through horrible things. And you – you’re _still _living through horrible things. What about me? I just sat there. I didn’t do _anything _.”  
She’d known he was struggling, but she had no idea, _no idea _, that he was lying to himself like this. She has to reach out and grab his hand, not only to steady him but also to center herself.  
Talking about how she feels is still new to her. She’s never cried in front of any member of the Party except Lucas. She gets scared and upset and angry as much as (and possibly more than) the next person, but she doesn’t _do _anything about it.  
Lucas isn’t like that. If something’s bothering him, he needs to get it off his chest. He can’t just let it eat away at him without the suppression taking a toll. And she’s obviously very glad that he feels safe enough to tell her what’s going on in his head.  
“See?” Lucas huffs, leaning down to pick up his book again. “I told you it was nothing.”  
Max takes a deep breath.  
“You were lying,” she says. He stops trying to find his place in the book and looks back up at her. “It’s not nothing if it’s stealing your sleep, Lucas.”  
He shrugs.   
“It’s not really a big – ”  
“It _is _a big deal. I can’t believe you were thinking that you don’t even deserve to have nightmares.” She shakes her head and frowns as she meets his eyes, knowing that she’s not going to be able to put everything she’s feeling into words, and that whatever she says is going to fall extraordinarily short, but she says it anyway. “You don’t… You deserve anything you want. You’re nice and funny and… and nice – ” She tries to just move on but Lucas snorts at that so she glares at him until he shuts up. “And I really…” She inhales and exhales. “I really, _really _care about you. I want you to be happy. So if… if something’s bothering you, tell me. Please.”  
When she looks up from twisting her fingers around each other in her lap, Lucas is looking at her with tears in his eyes and an almost painfully tender look on his face.   
“Thanks, Max,” he says softly, and when she ducks her head he hesitantly reaches out to lift her chin up.  
“Anytime,” she shrugs, meeting his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”   
“It actually is,” he says, “but I won’t argue with you.”   
She smiles and leans into the arms he holds out. She tucks her face into his neck, and he leans his head against hers.   
She’s not great at comforting, she knows that. She’s not articulate or gentle. She doesn’t know what to do. But Lucas whispers “Thank you,” into her shoulder, and when he pulls away he’s smiling, for _real _this time, and the warm fuzzy feeling that she never really felt before she met Lucas settles cozily into her stomach, and she thinks that she likes being on this end of the comforting.____________________________________

______________________________________________The rest of the day passes quite pleasantly. They read together in silence until they get hungry, and then Mrs. Sinclair loads them up with enough snacks to feed an army, and when Max tosses her board down on the driveway and starts skating away Lucas shouts, “Wait!”  
She stops and turns, about to ask what he needs, but before she can he throws his arms around her and pulls her into a tight hug. She smiles and nestles into his warm embrace.   
“What was that for?” she asks when he pulls away.   
He shrugs.   
“I like talking with you, MadMax.”   
She blushes and looks down.   
“And I like talking with you, Stalker, but I can see your mom watching us from the window.”   
He groans and turns to go. Before he goes inside, though, he turns and blows her a kiss.   
“Goodnight,” he says as she laughs at him.  
She gives a little wave, and waits until the door shuts behind him to start her journey home. When she gets back, her mother has a bruise on her cheek and Neil is slumped on the couch with a bottle of whiskey.   
Max retreats into her room and dumps her board on the floor. She thinks about crying, about feeling sorry for herself. But then she thinks about the watery smile Lucas gave her after her ‘you are awesome’ speech, and she thinks about how it feels to be securely wrapped in his arms, and she smiles instead.   
She’s sure she can go back over there tomorrow._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	5. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max doesn't really like her hair. Lucas does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know what happened here? Nope. I have no idea.   
> One minute they were just going to hang out and have a nice afternoon, the next Max was awkwardly insecure about being a redhead and Lucas was clumsily reassuring her.  
> Sorry.  
> Unedited, as literally all my stuff is, so there are probably tons of typos.  
> I really hope you enjoy it anyway!!!

“Hey,” Billy says conversationally.

“Go away,” Max says, equally conversationally.

He flips her off, grabs her toast, downs it in one bite, and for a minute Max has the bizarre thought that they’re acting like siblings. Real siblings that don’t beat each other up or have supernatural experiences or get seriously injured by their father/stepfather (depending on which of them you’re talking about).

Billy just got back from the hospital. He got home late one night, Neil wanted to know where he was, he used a little sass, and before any of them really knew what was happening he was flying through the air and into the bathroom mirror.

Unsurprisingly, this resulted in a concussion, and they spent the night in the ER, Billy semi-conscious and Max feeling strangely angry every time Neil told the doctors and nurses a story that wasn’t the truth.

She may hate him, but that doesn’t mean she _really _wants him to get messed up.__

__Be that as it may, the thought of being normal siblings that don’t have any reason to be genuinely afraid of each other is oddly terrifying, and Billy not being a jerk when he has an opening to be is even more scary, so instead of replacing her stolen toast or risking Billy making any non-threatening conversation Max mutters some stupid excuse about why she’s leaving the house and makes a break for it._ _

__***_ _

__She loves skating. She loves the freedom of the wind playing with her hair and blowing in her face, she loves the soft grind of the wheels against the pavement, and she loves getting away from the house. Lucky her, it’s a Saturday, and she can go wherever she wants as long as she’s back before dark._ _

__After what happened to Billy, she most definitely does not want to be late._ _

__She wishes that she could share this with Lucas, like she did with her few friends in California, but the one time she tried to teach him to ride the board he freaked out and fell and spent the rest of the day whimpering about his scraped elbow._ _

__She forced herself to avoid mentioning how much more pain tolerance than him she has, how blood could be gushing out of her arm and she wouldn’t make a sound, because she knows that he can’t stomach the thought of her being hurt, and though she tries to scorn it and call it ‘gushy’ she and he both know that it makes her feel warm and fuzzy and _loved _, so she doesn’t try _that _hard._____ _

______***_ _ _ _ _ _

______It’s not surprising that she ends up at Lucas’s house, considering that it’s the place she spends most of her free time._ _ _ _ _ _

______She leans her board against the house, because Mrs. Sinclair doesn’t mind if she does, and wipes her feet on the welcome mat before dashing inside._ _ _ _ _ _

______No one’s home, which is anticlimactic. Max doesn’t mind, though, and instead climbs the stairs to Lucas’s room, flopping onto his bed and leafing through a comic._ _ _ _ _ _

______While she does make fun of him incessantly for reading them, she’s not ashamed to admit that she’s developed a deep love for Wonder Woman. (Though she would add, to whomever she’s admitting this, that this love was born out of necessity, considering she spends hours in Lucas’s room and had to find _something _to do.)___ _ _ _ _ _

________She watches Diana take down bad guy after bad guy and wishes that she had black hair. She’s not particularly fond of her own._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It’s too long but not long enough. It’s too straight, but too wavy to be straight. It’s _boring _, is what it is, and she hates it.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But that doesn’t matter, she decides, because the sun is shining and Lucas will be home soon and she’s perfectly content to sit here in his room and read comics._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Lucas is in a good mood when he gets home and in an even better one when he sees Max’s skateboard sitting by the steps._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Go up and see her,” his mother says. “Erica can help me bring in the groceries.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Mooom!” Erica protests._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Before she can use any convincing arguments to make his mother decide that as a man his duty is to carry groceries, Lucas does the most mature thing he can think of, which is to stick out his tongue at her and dart inside._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Erica’s indignant wail follows him in, and he chuckles as he takes the stairs two at a time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Coming into his room to find Max lounging on his bed or flopped on the floor or standing and looking out his window is a fairly new development, and it hasn’t taken him any time at all to decide that he _loves _it. It feels somehow new and familiar at the same time, like they’ve been doing this for years but only just started.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He hopes that they _will _be doing this for years. He may only be fifteen but he definitely likes the idea of coming home to Max. (Sometimes he worries that he’s way too idealistic and romantic, and other times he decides that it’s not really a bad thing.)___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Normally she’ll turn around, make a quip, tell him something. Max is always talking. Sometimes he thinks it’s less because she likes to and more because if she lets her mind slow down the monsters that lurk in her brain can catch up, but he doesn’t mind. He likes her voice and her sense of humor, and she could talk for years if she’d just let him listen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________But she’s not talking today._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She’s curled up in his bed, a Wonder Woman comic open on the bed beside her, her right hand tucked under her head and her left resting on the covers, her eyes closed and her mouth open._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Lucas smiles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Finding her asleep is something he’s never done before, so he never even considers waking her up. Instead he just stands and looks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She’s beautiful. He knows that, but seeing her at peace like this, without any guards up, makes it even more obvious. Her eyelashes aren’t long but they are freaking adorable, and her cheeks are pink. She’s probably warm. She’s drooling a little, but Lucas doesn’t mind. He can always wash his pillowcase._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________They’re not quite at a point where he’d just let her saliva stay on his pillow. That’s gross, man._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He’s just contemplating the pros and cons of sliding in beside her when she rolls over onto her back, stretches, and opens her eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Seeing him standing over her makes her jump, and she rubs her face as she sits up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“What, are you _actually _my stalker now?”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He feels a little guilty, because he didn’t even consider the fact that watching her sleep wasn’t a particularly _un _creepy thing, even if he wasn’t trying to be creepy in the least.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Sorry,” he says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“It’s okay,” she shrugs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“You were reading Wonder Woman again?” he says to change the subject, holding up the well-loved comic and smiling._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Yeah,” she says, grinning back, a blush tinting her cheeks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He loves it when she blushes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“She’s pretty awesome,” he says. “Like you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________She blushes harder and shakes her head, even though she’s smiling as she does it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“No,” she says, “I’m not as awesome as her. Plus my hair’s the wrong color.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Lucas is nothing short of shocked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Max’s hair? The wrong color?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Is she insane?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Just in case, he says, “Actually, I think your hair’s the perfect color.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________She scoffs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Yeah, right. Red hair is the worst.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The worst. What the heck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Uh, no,” he says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________She looks surprised, the kind of surprised she only wears when he’s said something with such strong emotion that he surprised her. He takes a deep breath, reminds himself that it’s not actually a big deal, and calms down._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Just kidding. He’s not calm. The worst? Max’s hair? Max’s hair, which swishes and shines and makes his legs feel wobbly sometimes?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Yeah, no._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Do you really think your hair is the worst?” he asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Yeah,” Max says. “I mean, no. I guess there’s worse things to be, like bald. But still. I just don’t really like my hair, is all. It’s not a big deal.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“But it kind of is,” he says, because it _is _. Max’s hair is what makes her _Max _, and he can’t stand the thought of her not seeing it as anything other than what it is - red and wild and beautiful. “Your hair is gorgeous.”_____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________She raises both of her eyebrows and opens her mouth to say something before closing it. She’s evidently speechless, something Lucas feels kind of proud for causing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“It’s majestic, and glorious - ” He ignores her snort at his dramatic word usage and tries to continue, except he’s not great at ignoring Max and ends up being so distracted that he says, “and swishy.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________She full out cackles at that, and he feels like a failure. He is, after all, trying to make her see that her hair is something to admire and love, rather than laugh at._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Swishy,” she says. “I like it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“It’s really pretty,” Lucas mumbles, pouting. “I just didn’t have any other words to describe it at the moment.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Aww, don’t feel bad,” she says, giving him a consolatory, feel-better hug. “It’s nice that you want to make me like your hair.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Why don’t you like it?” he asks, instead of letting the topic rest, like he probably should._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“I don’t know,” she says, looking almost surprised at the question. “It’s just… boring, I guess. Besides, nobody good in the comic books has red hair.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Lucas trips over himself getting to his comic drawer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“How have you not seen any Black Widow?” he asks her, and it’s a valid question, because even if he’s not a huge Marvel fan he still has enough books in the drawer that she should have stumbled across one by now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Black Widow?” she asks, sitting up and looking interested. He feels smug. She’s going to love herself by the time he’s done. “Sounds pretty awesome.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Oh, she is,” he says, rifling around to find his favorite issue featuring Black Widow. “And her code name’s almost as cool as yours.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Shut up,” Max says, and he can hear the smile in her voice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Aha!” he says triumphantly, grabbing the book and standing up to hand it to Max. “Behold, one of the greatest superheroes of all time.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Max’s face, as she sees Black Widow on the cover, is so delighted that he knows she can’t have meant to show it. She only looks excited when she’s so excited that she’s forgotten to filter her expressions._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________He watches her as she leafs through the comic, a growing smile on her face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“See?” he says. “Red hair isn’t _boring _. It’s special. It makes you even more awesome than you already were.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________She blushes again, but she doesn’t tell him to shut up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Max is still getting over her surprise that Lucas thinks so highly of her hair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________She says, “Natasha Romanoff, huh?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Yep,” Lucas says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“I like her,” Max says. “She’s… kinda like me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________She doesn’t just mean as far as appearances go. The flashbacks in the comics mentioned the ‘Red Room’, some assassin training grounds or something. Max isn’t quite clear on that, but she _is _clear on the fact that it wasn’t fun.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Max’s own childhood isn’t super fun, either, and the fact that she kind of, sort of, has something in common with one of the most awesome superheroes she’s ever seen (because come on. Black Widow took down, like, fifteen guys at once. By herself. Without a gun.) makes her sit up a little taller._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Maybe her hair is a mark of strength, a sign that she can make it through whatever Neil and Billy can throw at her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________That thought is so empowering that she has to do _something _with the emotions it provokes, and her options are either kick down the door with her newfound redhead powers or hug Lucas really tightly.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________She goes for the latter._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Thanks, Stalker,” she says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________He hugs her back and smiles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Anytime, Red.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________She smacks him as she pulls away._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“If you start with that I’ll start hating it again.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________He raises his hands, looking contrite._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Sorry! Forget I ever said it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________She nods, relaxing back against the wall and picking up the Black Widow comic again. They sit in silence for a minute, her reading her comic and him sketching something at his desk._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Do you really think my hair is glorious?” she asks, breaking the silence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Lucas looks up at her and smiles, because yes, he does. He thinks her hair is the best hair to ever be worn by anyone ever. He thinks her hair is a blessing to the world. He thinks her hair is perfect._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________All of it sounds somewhat creepy, when he thinks about it. The fact that he loves her hair so much, that he’s _thought _about her hair this much, is probably creepy.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________But she’s smiling, and twirling a strand of hair around a finger, and he thinks that maybe she needs a creepy Stalker to obsess over her flaming locks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	6. Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max had a rough day, Lucas is concerned, there are kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S NOT DEAD???
> 
> I am so sorry I've let this poor thing sit unattended for so long, but, y'know, life.
> 
> I don't even know what this is but I do know that it's short and messy and yet I hope you still enjoy it!

"Hey!" Dustin snaps, as Max steps on his foot on her way past.

"Sorry," she mumbles, dropping down beside Lucas.

The Party is hanging out at Will's house, because Will's mom is the most thankful that her child is alive and therefore the happiest to host her son's friends. Unfortunately, Will's house is also the smallest, which means that when they want to watch movies in the living room, they have to squish.

Lucas looks at his girlfriend, wondering if he should ask her what's wrong. She never lets Dustin raise his voice at her, regardless of whether or not she deserved it, without retorting something snippy and clever back. He decides against it, because she'd just get embarrassed if he were to inquire after her emotional health in front of everyone, and settles for looping an arm around her shoulders in unspoken support instead.

His concerns are made greater by the fact that she curls into him, sliding a hand across his stomach to hug him back. Max is cuddly, but not in public. (Despite the fact that the Party is not public. She just doesn't like being physically affectionate in front of people.) Not Ever. Something is wrong. But his original conclusion that she'll be mad and embarrassed if he makes a big deal out of it right now still stands, so he bites his tongue and wishes really badly that he could just whisk her away to somewhere that she feels safe (probably his room) and ask her what's happened to make her day such a bad one. Joyce Byers is nothing if not hospitable and fond of her boys (and girls, of course, but the boys have been hers for longer) so when Will asks, in his best wheedling voice, if a sleepover can happen tonight, she readily agrees. They pull out the squashy sleeping bags that have been in circulation ever since the Party began (which was a long time ago) and set them up all over the living room. Max crawls into hers almost as soon as it's unrolled, and that, paired with how uncharacteristically quiet she's been all evening, is enough to make even Mike, who's never been the biggest Max fan, sit up and take notice. "Is she okay?" he asks Lucas in an undertone while the two of them are in the kitchen helping Joyce make more popcorn. "I don't know," Lucas says, and the fact that he doesn't know if Max is okay makes his stomach twist in a knot. It clearly doesn't sit well with Mike, either, which makes Lucas feel marginally better. He likes it when Mike and Max acknowledge that they're friends. He delivers the popcorn to people who will appreciate it and then slips into his own sleeping bag beside Max, noticing immediately that her breathing isn't the relaxed, light snore that it is when she's asleep and that she's not drooling, but rather it's the shallow, quick breathing and dripping tears that happen when she cries. That does it. "Let's go for a walk," he says, and she doesn't fight him, sitting up and nodding and dashing away the tears. He never really thought that he'd miss her fighting him, because sometimes it drives him crazy that she pushes back against everything he suggests, but he does, because it's part of who she is and he loves everything about her. It's amazing how when she's upset everything falls into perspective. *** It's cold outside (hardly surprising, considering it's January) and it bites at their faces. Lucas is instantly glad that he insisted Max put her hat and gloves on, even though she revived a little bit and made fun of him for being his mom. They walk along, quietly, and Lucas probably should be scared because it's this house that the Upside Down creatures have tagged as a target but he's not. Max takes a breath in like she's going to say something and then lets it out, and then opens her mouth and then shuts it again. He takes her hand and squeezes it. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he says, "but I know that something is going on and I want to help, if I can." "It's just too much, sometimes," she says abruptly, and Lucas half-stops, thinking to look at her while she's talking so she feels heard, but she keeps walking, hauling him along with her, eyes glued to the ground, so he keeps walking, too. "Life." She lets the words hang while she searches for more. "I don't know," she says, sounding frustrated. "It's just... school, and Neil, and Mom, and Billy, and you, and everything." Lucas can't hide the fact that he's a little hurt by the fact that she lumped him in with her messed-up family, but he doesn't have long to dwell on it. "Not - I didn't mean it like that. " Sometimes it's like she reads his mind, and the thought that she knows him that well makes his insides turn a happy somersault. "I meant that school is stressful, because I'm late all the time because Billy doesn't care, and that Billy's a jerk and that Neil is too, and that Mom never stands up for herself so I feel like I have to, and you know how that always ends up, and _you _..." she trails off, and sighs. "You're the best thing I've ever had, Lucas, and I don't think I'm good enough." Oh. Max has talked a little about this before, about how incredible she thinks he is and how inferior she thinks she is, and if she's been worrying about that on top of everything else that goes on in her life, it's no wonder she's feeling overwhelmed. It makes Lucas hurt inside. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, because he doesn't know where to start and he's trying to buy time. She snorts, the kind of laugh that she uses to cover up the fact that she's crying. "You haven't done anything wrong, you idiot." "But I'm still sorry," he insists, and this time when he stops she stops, too. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with Billy," he says. "That - " and he uses a word that makes Max smile for real - "is too much for _anyone _to have to deal with, even if they don't have Neil and their mom to worry about on top of that. I'm sorry that you feel like you have to protect your mom, and I'm sorry that it's against your - " another word that makes her grin - "stepdad." "Thanks," she says, and starts to hug him, but he grasps her shoulders and holds her at arms' length so that he can look her in the eyes. "I'm also sorry that you feel like you're not good enough," he continues, speaking slowly so she can hear every word, "because you are so much more than enough." And then there are tears welling up in her eyes, and he knows that it's because hearing that she's not a failure is sometimes a lot for Max to handle. He keeps talking. "You're beautiful, and smart, and funny, and kind," he says, and when she tries to protest he says, "You _are _. And you bake cookies with my mom because Erica won't, and you do the crossword puzzle with my dad because he needs help sometimes, and you listen to Erica until she stops talking, which _nobody _does. And you make me so happy, all the time, and you are so far past just 'enough' that it's crazy." She bites her lip and the tears spill over onto her cheeks, glistening in the moonlight, and before Lucas knows what's going to happen she surges up and kisses him. Her lips are wet and salty, and he closes his eyes and pulls her close and she wraps her hands around his neck and he thinks that he could die happy. She's still crying and after a minute she has to pull away, because she can't get enough air between the sobs and the snog. She promptly buries her face in his chest and Lucas holds her close. She hugs him fiercely. "I love you," she tells him, voice shaky. "I love you, too," he tells her, and he doesn't mean to but he leans down and kisses her again and she kisses back and they stand there like that, kissing in the cold, until Mrs. Byers comes out to check on them and apologetically ruins the mood. "I'm really sorry," she says, "but I'd feel much better if you were inside, because of, you know, what happened. I know that it's not nice to have to stop..." "We're coming, Mrs. Byers," Lucas says, and they follow her back inside the house, a little embarrassed and a little amused. *** This time when Max nestles into him, Lucas isn't concerned. He's just happy, and they're both emotionally drained, and he keeps her close until both of them fall asleep.________


End file.
